Page 60 of The Storybook Hero
Would that he could dispel the unaccountable chill that had developed between himself and Miss Hadley, thought Alex glumly, as the sleigh drew near the outskirts of their final destination. Ever since the night of their encounter with the French troops, they had treated each other with excruciating politeness, but an underlying tension had robbed their exchanges of any real warmth. Emma and Nicholas had not missed the subtle change, and their own behavior had become more and more subdued. The animated readings of Mrs. Radcliffe’s novel and the spirited debates over the foibles of the various characters had given way to long silences and searching looks.
He had avoided the unspoken questions in their eyes, for in truth he wasn’t sure that he understood what had happened any more than they did.
Did Octavia think him a lout for daring to kiss her with such fiery abandon? He would never have given in to such emotion if she hadn’t been so resolutely determined to march headlong into the jaws of danger with nary a care for herself. Ye heavens, he had wanted to shake her, to scold her, to smother her with kisses, all at the same time.
Kisses be damned—what he had really wanted to do was to strip the travel-worn clothing from both of their bodies and mold his heated flesh to every delicious curve of her form. He had wanted to make slow, sensuous love to her, and hear her cry out his name as their passion exploded in a shower of white hot sparks.
Hah! When she had spoken to him, it was to call him an obstinate ass!
Wincing, Alex gave an involuntary jerk on the reins. So much for imagining that flowery romance existed outside the pages of a dratted book! In reality, it seemed she was counting the minutes until they reached St. Petersburg and could finally be rid of his odious presence.
After all, she had made it clear from their first meeting that she thought him no more than a debauched wastrel. The brief interlude of what had appeared to be a more … intimate friendship had no doubt been engendered by mere expediency. There had been precious little choice but to get along with each other in order to survive.
And now?He would be off to London with Nicholas and Octavia would set herself to finding a caring guardian for Emma. A sharp twinge knifed through him at the thought of the impending separation.Damnation!He had spent ten years making himself impervious to tender emotions. Surely he was not going to miss a shrewish spinster and a pigtailed twelve-year-old!
But somehow the idea of their intrepid little family breaking up had his spirits sinking to a low ebb.
A family.Alex felt another stab of regret. Perhaps he had thought of them as such because he had none other to call his own.
Perhaps he didn’t deserve any.
After all, he would only disappoint anyone who was foolish enough to trust in him. How could it be otherwise, when even he didn’t trust in himself?
A string of shouted curses jarred his attention back to the road, just in time to avoid collision with a cart loaded with turnips. Several other drivers added their own rude comments on his prowess with the reins, and Alex found he had no choice but to focus on the crowded streets. Progress slowed as the sleigh made its way toward the snaking Neva River, lumbering at a snail’s pace past the pastel-colored buildings and long canals that had earned the city its moniker of “Venice of the North.”
After what seemed like an age, he turned the horses into a narrow side street and pulled to a halt in front of the seedy boarding house he had used during his first visit to St. Petersburg. Although it seemed highly unlikely that Nicholas’s uncle would dare try any further desperate acts at this late stage, Alex decided there was no harm in being cautious. Until he could establish contact with the embassy, they would remain hidden among the anonymous dockyard workers and tavern maids of the rough waterfront neighborhood.
He climbed down from his perch and cracked open the door to the cab. “Wait here while I arrange for a room.”
“Two rooms,” replied Octavia, rather too quickly for his liking.
His jaw tightened. “Until we can move you to a more genteel part of town, it would be wise to continue the masquerade of traveling together. The men here are no more apt to respect alone woman than those you encountered back in the inn where I found you fighting for your virtue.”
She made a face but nodded a reluctant assent.
He returned shortly and led them up three flights of rickety stairs to a large room with two smaller bedchambers overlooking a shadowed alleyway. The furnishings were cheap and well used, but at least the place was moderately clean and possessed a small cast-iron stove in the far corner.
“I’ve paid for some wood and a jug of water to be brought up,” he informed Octavia. “As we have no further need of them, I had better go down and see to disposing of the horses and sleigh.”
“While you are out, perhaps you should also see to purchasing some staples for our supper.”
He gave a curt nod. “Anything else?”
Eyes averted, she toyed with the strap of her valise. “D—do you intend to stop by the embassy?”
“Time enough for that in the morning,” he growled.The devil take it!Was she that anxious to be rid of him? The cold realization caused an icy knot to form in the pit of his stomach. Without further words, he turned and stalked out the door.
Biting her lip,Octavia fell to helping the children out of their heavy coats and boots, then settled them at the scarred pine table, along with their book. They raised no complaint, but it was clear from the half-hearted murmurs that they were engaged with something other than concern for the fate of Emily and Valancourt.
She was unpacking a few of their meager possessions when Emma suddenly closed the pages and looked up. “Are you andAlex … angry with us? Have we done something wrong?” The girl’s voice was hardly more than a tentative whisper, and from the look of concern on Nicholas’s pinched face, it was clear she was speaking for both of them.
Octavia brushed a lock of hair from her cheek. “Oh no, sweeting. We couldn’t be more proud of both of you. No hero or heroine from a book could have been faced such dangers with half of your courage and grit.”
“Then why does Alex look … like a bear with a thorn in his paw?” ventured Nicholas.
Because he had a thorn in his arse—a prickly governess to be precise!
Although it was the unfortunate truth, Octavia kept it to herself, searching instead for a reason the children might understand more readily.
